


Like a Moth to a Flame

by xBlackxRosexRebellionx



Series: Modern Day Charles Vane [1]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Vibes, Long Live Charles Vane, Mirror Sex, Modern Day Setting, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Older Man/Younger Woman, dirty talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:47:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25871602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xBlackxRosexRebellionx/pseuds/xBlackxRosexRebellionx
Summary: Charles Vane has been close friends with Anne and Jack Rackham for YEARS. He has served as a mentor of sorts for their daughter, Trista. But Tris has grown into a beautiful, intelligent, independent young woman with a restless soul and a thirst for knowledge. She is both stubborn and insistent, much like her mother, and she knows what she wants. The trouble is, she wants Charles, a little detail that he wasn't aware of until he shows up at her house to help alleviate a problem that arose between her and her soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. Charles has wanted Tris for the past four years, but has refused to give into the temptation, knowing that it would only cause problems between he and Tris and her parents. But, what he DOESN'T know is that Tris has wanted him even longer. She's not that sweet, innocent little girl anymore. She's a grown woman with thoughts and feelings and desires. And what she wants right now is a healthy dose of Charles Vane.While this story has NOTHING to do with Game of Thrones, it does have some heavy Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen vibes.
Relationships: Charles Vane/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Modern Day Charles Vane [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1877371
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Like a Moth to a Flame

_So, I’ll be the FIRST to admit that I fell helplessly in love with Charles Vane’s character in Black Sails. His character was so beautifully written in the show, but there was still SO much left unwritten, so much left untold. And so, I was SORELY disappointed when they killed his character off, leaving his story unfinished – and me QUITE unsatisfied. I thought that his character had so many different layers. He is both a fearless leader, never hesitating to lead his men into battle – and jumping RIGHT in there beside his men to fight to the bitter end – as well as a pirate captain that is feared by pirates, privateers, and peasants alike all across the world. He was a very cunning and calculating man and yet, at the same time, he cared deeply for the men – and women – of his crew. He often put himself in harm’s way for the woman that he loved, always putting her needs before his own. In fact, the few fleeting moments we saw exchanged between Charles and Eleanor were the few chances that we got to see that kind, caring, compassionate side of him. And yet, in the end, the woman he loved was the very death of him – something I think he knew was coming, despite his better judgment. But, rather than cower, rather than beg for his life, he embraced his end and used it to help spur other pirates into a rebellion against the very people who had ultimately betrayed him._

_All of this being said, I HATED seeing Charles with Eleanor. She was such a cold, calculating, manipulative woman who only used him for her own selfish schemes. To be honest, I’m not sure that she ever really had feelings for him, not from what I saw anyway. Maybe she did, in her own twisted little way, but I could never bring myself to pair Charles with her in any of my own stories. So, I decided to create an original character that I would pair him with instead and try to keep him as true to what he was on the show but move him into a modern day setting. That being said, I have always loved older men/younger women pairings and I think Charles is the type that would get off on that. I also thought that, considering the circumstances in this story, this pairing turned out to be a modern day Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen of sorts. He was always there, watching her from a distance, watching as she grew and matured, developing into the woman that he came to love even more than the girl he helped mentor. But, unlike Jorah and Daenerys, this couple may start off as bittersweet, but they wind up getting their happy – and VERY smutty – ending._

_Lastly, I can say with UTMOST certainty that I WILL be writing more stories about this couple or a different Charles Vane pairing of my own in the future. There will be PLENTY more Charles Vane smut to come, of that I am certain._

**_Like a Moth to a Flame_ **

_I'm not strong enough to stay away.  
Can't run from you  
I just run back to you.  
Like a moth I'm drawn in to your flame,  
Say my name, but it's not the same.  
You look in my eyes, I'm stripped of my pride.  
And my soul surrenders, and you bring my heart to its knees._

_And it's killing me when you're away, I wanna leave and I wanna stay.  
And I'm so confused, So hard to choose.  
Between the pleasure and the pain.  
And I know it's wrong, and I know it's right.  
Even if I try to win the fight, my heart would overrule my mind.  
And I'm not strong enough to stay away_

_I'm not strong enough to stay away  
What can I do  
I would die without you  
In your presence my heart knows no shame  
I'm not to blame  
Cause you bring my heart to its knees_

_And it's killing me when you're away, I wanna leave and I wanna stay.  
And I'm so confused, So hard to choose.  
Between the pleasure and the pain.  
And I know it's wrong, and I know it's right.  
Even if I try to win the fight, my heart would overrule my mind.  
And I'm not strong enough to stay away_

_There's nothing I can do  
My heart is chained to you  
And I can't get free  
Look what this love's done to me_

_  
And it's killing me when you're away, I wanna leave and I wanna stay.  
And I'm so confused, So hard to choose.  
Between the pleasure and the pain.  
And I know it's wrong, and I know it's right.  
Even if I try to win the fight, my heart would overrule my mind.  
And I'm not strong enough to stay away_

_Not strong enough, strong enough  
Not strong enough, strong enough  
To stay away_

_  
Not strong enough, strong enough  
Not strong enough, strong enough  
I'm not strong enough to stay away_

Charles Vane was just getting ready to hop in the shower when he got the call.

He sighed, seeing Jack’s number flash on the screen. He knew he had to take it. Between him and Anne, it was hard telling what the hell they had gotten themselves into now.

But when he answered the phone, asking the usual, “What now?” the _last_ thing he ever expected to hear was, “Charles, it’s Tris.”

His dark brows furrowed and his shoulders bristled.

“Tris?” he asked, “What about her?”

Trista Rackham was Jack and Anne’s daughter, the same one that he had been renovating a fixer-upper for over the past five months since she had just recently graduated from college and the Rackhams had wanted her to have a certain sense of freedom after gaining her newly acquired higher education. Of course, that hadn’t stopped Anne from calling her daughter on a nightly basis to check in or inviting her over once a week for their Friday night family dinners. And, though she’d never admit to it, Charles _knew_ that Anne always took the long way to work, just so that she could drive past Tris’s place every morning to make sure that all was well with her daughter.

“It’s her birthday, you know,” Jack started to explain.

“Fuck…” Charles cursed, dragging one hand down over his face.

He’d been so damn busy with all of the remodeling in that old fixer-upper Jack and Anne had bought for her that he’d forgotten all about it. Today was September 5th.

“And she was supposed to have some friends over tonight,” Jack continued on as if he’d never spoken, “But I just got a call from Sterling and she said that shit had kicked off between Tris and Chandler. Anne wants to head over there right now, but you know how she gets. Charles, I’m asking you… Please. If Anne shows up at that house, one or _both_ of us are going to wind up behind bars by the end of the night.”

Charles nodded. He knew it was true. He’d seen firsthand what Anne Bonny – or, now, Anne Rackham – was capable of.

“All right,” he assured his friend, “I’m on my way.”

He hung up, a sigh escaping him as he turned and walked out of the bathroom, heading down the hall and snagging his keys off the kitchen table as he made his way for the door.

Sterling paced back and forth across the living room in her best friend’s humble abode, one thumb tucked firmly between her teeth as she nibbled at her nail. She’d already sent all of the other guests away, with the exception of Chandler, who had simply refused to be moved. He was currently pounding at the bathroom door, where Tris had locked herself in, shouting loud, obscene, drunken curses at her.

“Open the fucking door, you little bitch!” he screamed, yanking and tugging at the doorknob and practically rattling the whole damn door until Sterling was beginning to wonder how it hadn’t fallen off the hinges yet.

“Leave her alone!” Sterling yelled from her post in the living room, where she was currently – and anxiously – awaiting Charles’s arrival.

She’d gotten the text from Jack just a few moments ago that Charles was on his way over. And thank _God_ for that because, had Anne Rackham showed up, Chandler would be leaving in a _body bag_. Although, the more she thought about it, maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. At least then, her friend would finally be rid of him, the slimy little… cockroach. It was the nicest description she could think of to describe him at the moment.

She shook her head at herself for having such thoughts, only to be jerked out of her musings when the front door flew open.

“Where is she?” Charles demanded, practically growling out the words in that deep, gravelly baritone as he narrowed those brilliant, blue eyes at her.

“She’s down the hall,” Sterling told him, gesturing with one hand, “I tried to get her to come out, Charles. Honest, I did. But he’s in a fucking mood and he’s drunk off his fucking ass and –,”

“Trista, you _fucking_ cunt! I said open this fucking door!” Chandler bellowed down the hall, cutting her off.

Charles’s head whipped around to follow the sound and his eyes narrowed into little slits as he started in that direction.

As Sterling rounded the corner just behind him, she saw Chandler turn his head to watch their approaching figures, his face contorting into a mask of first surprise, then outright fury as he jabbed one finger in Charles’s direction, which, as far as Sterling was concerned, was just one of the _many_ mistakes he’d already made that night.

“Oh _sure!_ They send the fucking _handy_ man in to clean up little miss princess’s messes!” he accused.

“I’m more than that,” Charles snarled at him as he drew closer.

“Oh?” Chandler questioned, “What? You fucking her too? She spreading her legs for you? ‘Cause she _sure_ as hell isn’t spreading them for me!”

“I’m not spreading them for anybody!” Sterling heard her best friend shout from inside the bathroom.

“I’ll tell you what I am,” Charles said as he finally reached Chandler, glowering down at the slightly shorter man as he walked right up to him and got right in his face, “I’m your worst fucking nightmare.”

Chandler laughed at that, cackling like the drunken fool that he was as Sterling cringed. She’d seen Charles in action, and she knew that it wouldn’t fare well for Chandler tonight. But, then again, as far as she was concerned, he had it coming. And, to be fair, he was probably lucky that it wasn’t Trista’s mother, Anne, that had shown up or she would’ve castrated him or something equally horrifying – and satisfying – for laying a hand on her daughter.

The worst part was, Charles didn’t even know that yet.

Sterling watched as Charles’s features twisted into anger, his cerulean eyes narrowing and his whole frame tensing, muscles coiling just beneath the skin. Then he snapped, shoving Chandler back against the wall with one arm braced against his throat and the other hand pressed to the wall, just beside Chandler’s head. Chandler’s eyes couldn’t have been any wider, his throat bobbing against Charles’s arm as he swallowed hard.

“You listen here, you sniveling little shit,” Charles snarled, his upper lip curling back into a sneer as he leaned right down into Chandler’s face, that low timbre issuing a thorough warning, “I have had _enough_ of your fucking shit. I’m not her father. I’ll follow through with any threats that I make. And you’d better fucking believe that if I hear that you’ve been anywhere _near_ Tris again, if I hear that you’ve been calling her or texting her or bothering her in _any_ way, if I hear that you’ve even been _asking_ about her, they will never find your fucking body. Do I make myself clear?”

Chandler just blinked up at him, leaving Charles to snarl impatiently and slam him back against the wall with enough force to rattle his teeth for added emphasis as he growled, “Do I make myself fucking clear?!”

Chandler gave a jerky nod at that, so forceful that Sterling wondered if maybe his head wouldn’t fall off. But, regretfully, it didn’t. And with that, Charles yanked him off of the wall and gave him a hard shove towards the hallway, causing Sterling to jump and press herself against the wall to avoid coming into contact with him.

“You’d better get the fuck out of my sight,” Charles warned him, “Before I change my mind.”

Chandler gave another fierce nod and turned, darting down the hallway as fast as his drunken feet would carry him.

“The fucking prick…” Sterling mumbled to herself as she watched him go.

 _“That’s_ an understatement,” Charles told her, pointing at her to further emphasize his point.

Sterling just nodded, moving towards the bathroom door and calling softly, “Tris, honey, it’s me, Sterling. The douche canoe is gone.”

Charles heard an audible sigh of relief come from the other side of the door and his ears perked up as he heard the click of the lock being turned over.

Sterling moved to open the door, revealing a very haggard looking Tris on the other side. But Charles’s blue eyes widened as he saw the dark bruise there on her face, covering the entirety of her left cheek.

“What the _fuck?!”_ he demanded, shoving Sterling aside as he barged into the bathroom, moving to stand in front of the bathroom vanity, where Tris was currently perched with a Ziploc bag full of ice in one hand.

She winced as she brought it up to cover the mark on her face.

“Did he do this to you?” Charles asked her, jabbing one angry finger in the direction of the open bathroom door, where Charles had just threatened her attacker.

Tris didn’t answer. She just cast her pale eyes down to her lap and sighed.

His blood was practically _boiling_ in his veins, and he had the sudden and undeniable urge to hunt the little fucker down and kill him with his bare hands, to make him suffer, to make him _bleed_ for hurting this woman. Tris was very near to him, very dear to him. She was something precious, something sacred, something that he had grown to be both very fond of and _fiercely_ protective of over the past several years.

Charles reached up to cup her chin with one hand, growling as she quickly jerked away from him, her eyes wide with fright. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights, so fragile, so scared, so unsure of herself. And that wasn’t the Trista Rackham that he knew at all.

“What did he do to you, baby girl?” he mused, slowly bringing his hand up once more.

This time Tris allowed him to touch her, having seen it coming, but she still flinched noticeably as he brought his large hand up to cradle the side of her face. That alone made his chest ache.

His touch was gentle, the rough pad of his thumb brushing her uninjured cheek in a soft caress. Tris let her eyes flutter shut as she basked in his touch, slowly leaning into him.

To say that her birthday had gone to shit was the understatement of the year. What had started as a pleasant little gathering of a small group of close friends had quickly escalated once her boyfriend of six months had started drinking. She had thought that maybe being in front of other people would deter him from lashing out at her. She had thought wrong.

“Has he done this before?” Charles asked her, pulling her from her thoughts.

She forced herself to open her eyes, gazing up into those beautiful, brilliant, cerulean orbs that were peering down at her with such an intense gaze that it threatened to steal the very breath from her.

“Just once,” she answered truthfully.

She could never lie to Charles Vane. Despite him being so close with her parents, despite the fact that she loved her parents dearly, _Charles_ had always been the one that she talked to, the one she confided her deepest, darkest secrets in when she was younger. She’d known, even at a very young age, that her mother wouldn’t hesitate to jump into a fight over her, even over the most trivial little thing. And her father, bless him, couldn’t handle the heavy shit. But Charles… Charles had _always_ been there for her.

As strange as it sounded, Charles was the one she had called from the school when she’d gotten into her first fist fight, back in the third grade, knowing that her mother would be likely to tear into the other kid herself and her father would never be able to keep it a secret from her mother for fear that she’d have his balls nailed to the wall by the end of the night. So, she’d called Charles, who had shown up at the school, anxious and flushed with worry as he’d come rushing into the principal’s office, where she’d been waiting after the little lecture she’d received from said principal. There she’d sat, with a fat lip and a bloody nose, her chin held high and her pale eyes watching him as he’d taken one look at her and asked, “How’s the other kid look? He look worse than you?” She’d smiled, despite herself, and had nodded her head, to which the principal had gone into a tizzy over, insisting that punishments must be dealt out because fighting was not tolerable on school grounds. After they’d walked out of the office, however, Charles had smirked down at her, reaching out to tuck her into his side, and proudly declared, “That’s my girl. But _next_ time, you catch him off school grounds and you whip the piss out of him.”

Charles had been the one she had called when she’d started her period at school, locking herself in the bathroom at school until he’d shown up on the scene with a fresh pair of jeans and a new pair of underwear. He’d waited patiently, there in the girl’s bathroom, keeping his post and making sure that no one else walked into the bathroom until she had managed to change into the fresh clothes and thrown her ruined ones into the trash can, too ashamed to take them home for her parents to see. When they had left the school, he had taken her out to get pads, glaring at another man that passed down the aisle who gave him a funny look. Charles had even picked up some of her favorite chocolate bars, the Hersheys with the almonds in them, and a half gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

Charles had been the one that she had called when her senior prom date had ditched her for one of her best friends at the time. She’d been sobbing, barely even able to compose herself long enough to get through the phone call, and her makeup had been thoroughly ruined. But he had shown up, her knight in black armor, and had whisked her away for a night at his place. He’d offered her one of his t-shirts and a pair of his boxers that she could wear for the night. They’d called and ordered a pizza and camped out right there on the couch, talking and laughing and watching movies all night until she’d passed out, snuggled up to his side with her head resting on his chest. And, in her book, it had _more_ than made up for her ruined prom night.

It had been Charles that she had called when she’d had a little too much to drink one night while she was at college and she needed a ride back to the townhouse. She hadn’t wanted her parents to know, hadn’t wanted them to find out that their perfect, proper little girl was going out drinking at college – and it wasn’t that she did it all that often to be honest. But she’d been a mess that night, sobbing incoherently about her recent breakup and how none of the guys at college were into her. She’d let it all out that night, that she hated boys, that she sometimes wished she was a lesbian so that she didn’t even have to deal with their stupidity, that she hated Eleanor Guthrie. Hell, she’d even confessed that she’d made out with a girl that night, just to see if it would actually do anything for her, but that it had just felt wrong. And Charles, bless him, had soldiered through it all, holding her and murmuring sweet words of encouragement to her as she’d cried it all out until she’d fallen asleep and he’d tucked her into his bed that night. She’d found him camped out on the couch the next morning, thankful that the one thing she hadn’t let slip during her drunken rant was how she truly felt about him. Because, God help her, she’d wanted him then, wanted him more than that next breath. But she was smart enough to know that Charles Vane would never want a girl like her.

She shook her head to clear it, barely registering the words when he growled out, “I’m gonna _fucking_ kill him.”

“He’s not worth it,” she said, shaking her head once more.

“He fucking is,” Charles insisted, “Look what he did to your face, Tris!”

He reached out to grab the bag of ice she was holding and pull it away from her aching face.

She cringed, jerking away from him and squeezing her eyes shut for a moment as the pain radiated up the side of her face towards her scalp.

“God, look at you. The fucking _nerve_ of that little punk!” Charles snarled.

“He’s not worth it,” she repeated.

And she meant it. He really wasn’t.

Charles stared down at her, really looking at her. And he noticed it then, her long, wavy hair was no longer its natural, rich, mahogany color anymore. Instead, it was a pale shade of blonde, almost even lighter than a dishwater blonde. In fact, it was so light that it was almost white.

He reached up to brush one pale strand behind her ear, taking note of the fact that she had her hair pulled back into cute little pigtails, leaving her long bangs to hang down in her face.

“You dyed your hair,” he stated.

It wasn’t a question. That much was obvious.

“I did,” she said, nodding, “I got it done today actually. Sterling helped me with it.”

“I don’t like it,” he told her.

Tris jerked her head back, blinking up at him with those eerie, pale eyes.

“Well…” she retorted, “Tell me how you really feel.”

She started to push herself off of the vanity, but Charles was quick to block her path, moving in front of her once more, this time coming to stand between her legs.

“Tris, I didn’t mean it like that,” he explained, “You’re beautiful, just the way you are. It doesn’t matter how you do your hair or what kind of makeup you wear or what clothes you pull on that day… You’re just beautiful, and you don’t even have to try. It’s just who you are.”

Tris stared up at him, blinking, her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide.

“Wow…” she finally managed to get out.

All her life, she’d been waiting to hear those words. And coming from Charles Vane, it sucked the breath right out of her. What did one say to the man that she had been lusting over for the past seven years? The man that she knew she would never have because he was like family to her parents? The man that she never thought would ever look at her as anything more than a scrawny, snot-nosed little kid? There were no words for that.

Her ears barely registered the words as her best friend murmured awkwardly, “Yeah… I, um… I’m gonna… go… Just, um… Just call me if you need anything, all right?”

“Yeah,” Tris agreed, unable to get her mouth to form any more of a response than that.

She never tore her eyes from Charles as he stood there in front of her, staring down at her with that intense, cerulean gaze, his hands braced on either side of her on the cool, cream colored vanity unit that he’d installed there in the bathroom just last week.

She didn’t even hear the front door close behind Sterling as she left, so enrapt was she with the man standing before her.

“Do you have _any_ idea what I want to do to him?” Charles asked her, “For touching you? For hurting you?”

She lowered her eyes then, letting them find her lap, and he reached out to gently cup her chin, lifting her chin so that her eyes would meet his.

“Tris, you are precious to me,” he told her, “Do you understand that?”

He lowered his head slightly so that he could look her right in the eye.

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, still trying to avoid his gaze, though he was making it increasingly impossible for her.

“I love you,” she finally blurted out, no longer able to hold it in.

“You know I love you,” he replied, bringing his other hand up to join the first as he carefully cradled her face in his large hands.

But she shook her head, pulling her face from his grasp and insisting, “No. I _love_ you, Charles. I have loved you since I was fifteen.”

“Tris, you know your mother would kill me if –,” he started to tell her.

She huffed in frustration, shaking her head hard, and shoved at his chest, trying to get him to move out of her way so that she could finally get down from that damned vanity and out of that stiflingly small bathroom. The sudden gesture caught him off guard, sending him reeling backwards a few steps before he finally managed to catch himself against the bathroom wall. His eyes were wide as he stared at her for a moment. But just a moment, before he was back in front of her, an unmovable force that refused to not have his voice heard.

 _“Listen_ to me,” he demanded, reaching out to take her face in his hands once more, this time bringing his face right down until their noses nearly touched, “Your mother would fucking _kill_ me if she knew how I felt about you, how I _have_ felt about you since you were eighteen.”

Her brows furrowed then, and she jerked her head back, blinking. Surely, she wasn’t hearing him right.

“You know I love you,” he told her, “I would do _anything_ for you.”

She nodded. That much was true. But she still couldn’t believe that he loved her the way she loved him.

“I have loved you since that night of your senior prom…” he revealed to her, “When I saw you standing there in that dress, with your makeup all a mess, I wanted to beat the shit out of that kid for making you cry. When I saw you shuffling down the hall with my t-shirt barely hanging on your shoulders, falling clear down to your knees, and your hair falling down around your face, I knew then that I wanted to see you like that every night. And when you curled up next to me and fell asleep with your head on my shoulder… I sat like that until my ass fell asleep because I didn’t want to wake you. You looked so peaceful, so beautiful, and I didn’t want to disturb you. I knew then that I was in trouble, Tris. Because I realized then that I had fallen in love with you.”

Tris gave a wobbly smile, her bottom lip quivering and her eyes burning with tears even as the smile stole across her face. She couldn’t help herself. She reached out, hands finding the sides of his handsome face, and pulled him to her, her lips crashing down against his. And _fuck_ if it wasn’t even better than she had ever dreamed it would be.

She felt as much as heard the low, rumbling groan that he spilled against her lips as she leaned down, pressing her lips more firmly to his as she wound her fingers through his long, dark brown hair. God, she loved his hair, her fingers curling through it and tugging until she heard him hiss, feeling his fingers dig into the cotton covering her hips.

She parted her lips, catching his bottom lip between her teeth to deal him a sharp little nip that had him groaning, his head tipped back as those beautiful, blue eyes rolled back into his head and he tugged her right to the edge of the vanity, right up against him. She was trapped now, pressed right up against him, but there was nowhere else she’d rather be than with his hands on her body and her mouth stealing his breath.

The air between them was hot, her skin prickling as she felt him start to slide his hands slowly up from her hips, under the hem of her over-sized t-shirt. Goosebumps broke out on her skin as she felt the rough pads of his fingers skating over her sides, his thumbs brushing her stomach on either side of her navel. It was her turn to gasp then when he moved his mouth from her lips down along her jaw, trailing them up to her ear. And Tris had never known that her ears were so sensitive until she felt his hot breath against her there, sending a sharp jolt of electricity shooting through her body, straight down to her core, which quickly clenched in response.

Her head fell back, cradled delicately in the palm of one large hand, as he brought those wicked lips right to her ear, nipping and nibbling at her earlobe first, which coaxed a rather embarrassing mewling sound from her, before he worked the tip of his tongue along the rise of her and then swiped it up the back of her ear. She whined then, her fingers tugging at his hair and her hips angling as he brought his other hand down to grasp one firmly. She brought her thighs up around his waist, squeezing at him as she sucked in a sharp breath as he nipped at the rise of her ear.

He nuzzled along the shell of her ear with the tip of his nose, breathing her in and growling, _“Christ,_ you smell so fucking sweet…”

Hearing him curse had always had a swift and sharp effect on her, causing her thighs to tighten reflexively around his hips as her inner walls fluttered in arousal, her fingers curling and her nails raking along his scalp. He groaned then, moving his hand from her hip up underneath her shirt once more, this time to explore further north.

She sucked in a breath as she felt his fingertips ghosting up over her side, the muscles twitching beneath her skin and a breathless giggle spilling from her as she felt the rough, calloused palm of his hand and the blunt tips of his fingers making their way up over her ribs. She felt his thumb grazing along the underside of her bare breast and her laughter died. Instead, she gasped, voicing both her surprise and her sudden need for air as she felt him teasing along the bottom of her breast.

He purred into her ear, breath warm and tone sultry as he nuzzled at her.

“Such a naughty girl…” he chastised, “Wearing a thin little shirt like this without any bra underneath… Just asking for trouble…”

He brought his large hand up to cup the subtle globe of her breast then, his thumb teasing over the pearl of her nipple until he’d coaxed it into a puckered, pink peak. His mouth was on hers then, swallowing down every moan and whimper that spilled from her mouth into his. She’d never been self-conscious before but, suddenly, she felt completely inadequate. She’d seen the women that Charles had pursued, and she was _nothing_ like them.

Feeling her tense against him, Charles pulled back to peer down at her, studying her as his crystal blue eyes roamed over her face, searching for the reason behind her sudden hesitance.

She wouldn’t meet his gaze, her eyes lowering to stare at her own lap as she tried to catch her breath.

“Tris…?” he prompted, his voice deeper, raspier than he’d like, a clear sign of his arousal, “Honey, talk to me. What is it?”

“I…” she started before sighing and having to try again, “I just… I’ve seen the women you’re into, and… I’m _nothing_ like them, Charles.”

“You’re right,” he agreed with a slow nod, “You’re not. You’re _so_ much better.”

“But how can you say that?” she scoffed, jerking her head up to study him then, truly looking at him now, “You like blondes and I’m…”

She gestured to her hair, which had once been long, luxurious locks of rich, mahogany but was now such a pale shade of blonde that it was nearly white.

“Why _did_ you dye your hair?” he questioned, “Because Chandler told you to?”

“No,” she huffed, looking rather indignant as she focused her attention on the hem of her short, cotton shorts, picking at it with one painted blue fingernail.

He smiled at that. Blue had always been her favorite color. Why? He had no idea. But she had always loved anything blue.

“Then why?” he inquired.

“Because of you, you idiot!” she cried in exasperation, finally casting her eyes back up to his, “I did it… because of you. You’ve always had a thing for blondes, and I thought… I thought that maybe you’d look my way if I was a little more like something… that you liked.”

Charles’s chest tightened at that and he was quick to reach out, cradling her face gently in his large hands as he murmured, “Oh, honey…”

“I know…” she admitted, “It was a stupid idea.”

“You were so fucking pretty though,” he told her, using the fingers of one hand to brush a stubborn strand of her now blonde hair back behind her ear, “I loved those auburn locks of yours. They were such a unique shade. They were… you.”

“I just… I thought if I didn’t look like that little freckle faced kid anymore –,” she started to explain.

“I love that freckle faced kid,” he insisted, “I love the little freckles that are scattered across your nose and cheeks, the ones that come out on your shoulders when you’ve been out in the sun. I love those long, auburn waves. I love that dimpled smile and those full lips that still press kisses to your hand and blow me kisses every time I leave. I love that soft, sweet voices that sings in the shower or hums when you’re making breakfast and you thinks that no one else is around. I love those long ‘chicken legs’ that you hate so much and the way you wiggle your butt when you dance. I love every part of that ‘freckle faced kid’. So don’t you talk shit about her.”

Tris smiled at that, despite herself.

She’d apparently never known those things.

A blush colored her cheeks and Charles thought it was adorable.

“But…” she started, “I mean _look_ at me, Charles.”

“I _am_ looking at you, baby girl,” he replied.

“I don’t have any tits!” she exclaimed in exasperation, despite his attempts to console her.

“Tits aren’t everything, love,” he said with a shrug.

“Charles, I have a fucking B cup. And that’s being optimistic somedays,” she huffed, “I mean, tits are kind of a _big_ part of being a woman.”

“So what? You have the sweetest fucking ass I’ve ever seen,” he informed her, “And your legs are sexy. You know how many times I’ve imagined them wrapped around me? Or how many times I’ve pictured those pretty, pale eyes gazing up at me while you sucked my cock?”

Those icy eyes grew so wide at that confession and she just blinked up at him. Those eyes were unlike anything he had ever seen, the prettiest, palest shade of blue he’d ever known. They were as unique as the rest of her, one of the many things that she had inherited from her mother – her blue eyes, her auburn hair, her “take no shit” attitude and that stubborn steak that stretched a country mile wide. She was all Anne.

“No more talking shit about my Tris,” he told her, “I mean it. Or I’m gonna bend you over and swat your ass for it.”

Her eyes lit up at that and Charles’s brows hiked up his forehead.

“You like that, do you?” he practically purred, his voice dropping another octave as he realized that his sweet, innocent little Tris might actually be a bit kinky.

He watched as she sank her teeth into her bottom lip.

But that only prompted him to reach out, catching it with his thumb and easing it out from between her teeth as he admonished, “That’s _mine_ to nibble on, love.”

He saw her cheeks flame once more and he smirked at that, his lips curling up into a roguish, lopsided grin.

“You’re so pretty when you blush,” he told her, “But I can’t help but notice that you blush like a virgin when I mention anything even _remotely_ sexual. Tell me, Tris, have you and Chandler fucked?”

She gasped at that – actually _gasped –_ those pretty, pale eyes growing so wide as she blinked up at him, her mouth hanging open in shock.

“I…” she floundered, “Why do you want to know?”

“Because, as selfish as it sounds, I want to know what experiences I’ll get to share with you for your first time,” he elaborated, “Like, for example, has he ever fucked your pretty little pussy?”

He didn’t think her eyes could get any wider, but he’d been wrong. She jerked her head back and worked her jaw, almost as if she was trying – and struggling – to find the words to answer his question.

“I… No,” she finally answered.

“No?” he asked incredulously.

“No,” she insisted, “He used to get _so_ mad at me because I ‘wouldn’t give it up’ for him, but I just… It just didn’t feel right, you know? The timing just wasn’t right, and _he_ just wasn’t… he wasn’t the man that I wanted.”

“Makes sense,” Charles thought aloud, “He was a complete asshole. Honestly, I don’t know what you ever saw in the guy. But I _am_ surprised. Six months is a long time to go without.”

“For some maybe,” she said with a shrug, “I never saw the appeal really.”

It was Charles’s turn to jerk his head back, his dark brows furrowing as he stared at her in disbelief.

“Well you’ve _obviously_ never been with a man that was worth a shit in the sack then,” he scoffed.

She simply shrugged, replying honestly, “They got what they wanted. That’s all they cared about. Thinking back on it, it would’ve been much wiser to save it for someone that was worth it. I see why some girls save themselves now.”

Charles’ face fell then and he took her face in his large hands once more, making her look into his eyes, her eerie, pale orbs meeting his crystal blue ones as he told her, “I promise you this, Tris, you will enjoy _everything_ we do together.”

For once, Trista believed a man when he gave her his word. She knew Charles’s word to always be true. He had never lied to her yet. And he had no reason to. If he was even _half_ as good as she imagined, she was going to _thoroughly_ enjoy the night they shared together. She just hoped that it wasn’t something fleeting, a simple one-time-only event that she was going to have to hold onto for the rest of her days, pining over what could have been. Because if he touched her, if he fucked her, she would never be able to get over him. She had been waiting for this very moment for seven years now. And it would fucking break her if he cast her aside after it was over, just like all the others had done before him. That was _precisely_ why she hadn’t slept with her last three boyfriends. Because the others had abandoned her to pursue other girls after they’d finally gotten what they had wanted, even her first real boyfriend back in high school had ditched her for her closest friend at the time – and on her prom night, no less. And, looking back on it, she sorely regretted ever having given up her virginity in the first place.

But Charles… Charles Vane was _so_ very different from all of the other men – no, _boys_ – that she had been with in the past. He was gentle with her, even despite being rough around the edges. He had made her feel special, like she was the only woman that mattered to him, when he had kissed her just moments ago. He had made her forget that anything – that _everything –_ else around them even existed. All that had existed in that moment was her and him and their lips pressed together so perfectly, and her chest _ached_ at even the _thought_ of that kiss not meaning to him what it had meant to her. He wasn’t just some high school crush, something that was here today and gone tomorrow. She wanted him so much that it physically _hurt_ to be near him.

She shook her head, moving her hands to place them on his chest, preparing to push him away from her, to put some space between them. She needed to get away from him, needed to clear her head. But he moved his hands too, placing them over hers, holding her anchored to him as he stared down at her with those devastatingly beautiful, blue eyes. Blue, her favorite color.

She’d always been a sucker for men with blue eyes, but she’d never realized that that might all be due to the very man standing in front of her now, not until Sterling had mentioned it just last week, speculating that maybe a certain family friend was the secret reason behind why she loved men with blue eyes and long, dark hair. And, despite the quick and vehement protests she’d given, Tris knew that Sterling was onto something. It _was_ Charles – it had _always_ been Charles – that she wanted. She had always been drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. And yet she knew that that flame burned brightly and that it would be the end of her if she drew too close.

“Trista, look at me,” he demanded, lowering his head and tilting it until she was forced to look into his eyes, those eyes that threatened to break her, “I love you. And if you don’t want to do this, we won’t. But know that that doesn’t change the way that I look at you. I will still love you tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. I’m not one of those boys you were with at college. I’m not here today and gone tomorrow. I’m here – I’m standing _right_ here in front of you – and I am telling you that I will be here for you every fucking day for the rest of my life. Because, when I tell you that I love you, I _mean_ it. I mean _every_ word of it.”

She blinked, her eyes burning with unshed tears as they began to gather in her eyes. She tipped her head back then, forcing her eyes shut tight to keep them at bay. She wouldn’t cry. Not in front of him.

His hands found her face then, pulling her back down to him, and he pressed his forehead to hers.

“I _love_ you,” he insisted, “Tell me you know that.”

She just nodded, afraid to open her eyes, to look at him, for fear that it would break the dam inside of her.

“Have I ever lied to you?” he asked her.

“No,” she answered truthfully.

“Then why would I start?” he prompted.

“Because you know that it would _break_ me if you told me that you didn’t want me,” she confessed on a choked sob, finally losing her control on her emotions, “Because you think that I’m some sad, scared little girl that’s just going to forget about this tomorrow. But I’m not, Charles. I’m not. I’m _not_ a little girl anymore, and I am not _ever_ going to forget the way you kissed me. But I need you to walk away if you don’t truly want me. Because if I let you inside of me – if I let my guard down and I bare myself to you – I will not _ever_ forget it. And I will _always_ want more.”

She didn’t even see it coming. One minute he was standing in front of her, with her face cradled so gently in his large, calloused hands, and, the next, he was pressed right up against her, his hot, hard body invading her space and his warm, wet tongue delving into her mouth to explore the cavern of her mouth. Tris couldn’t help herself. She whimpered pathetically, her hands scrambling from his chest up into his hair to hold him to her, her thighs winding around his waist to squeeze him and pull him in even closer until there wasn’t a hair’s breadth between them. She needed him, _all_ of him, more than she needed that next breath.

Charles felt her submit to him, her body slowly melting into his, her fingers spearing through his hair to curl in the long, dark locks. He felt her cradling him between her thighs, felt her fingers tugging at his hair, desperate to get him closer. He felt her calves pressing against his ass, coaxing him ever closer, until he could practically feel the heat radiating off of her, most of which was centered between those sweet thighs.

“You’re going to be the death of me, woman…” he groaned against her lips as he pulled back to breathe.

She wouldn’t allow him to separate their lips any further than was needed to drag oxygen into their starved lungs. And it was only a moment before she was crushing her lips to his again, kissing him with a hunger so fierce that it shook him to his core. _Never_ had a woman kissed him like that, like she was dying of thirst and he was the life-giving water she needed, like she truly _needed_ him more than that next breath.

He returned the kiss in kind, one hand cupping the side of her face and the other roaming slowly up the inside of her thigh, starting at her knee and making the slow but steady trek up towards the hem of her shorts.

Once his hand delved beneath it, he made a shocking discovery. His little Tris wasn’t wearing any panties underneath them. Instead, his hand met her bare mound, which he also discovered was shaved.

Charles groaned, long and deep, upon making this discovery, his head falling onto her shoulder as he panted, struggling to catch his breath.

 _“Christ,_ woman!” he cursed, “No panties either? Are you _trying_ to fucking kill me?”

The breathless laughter that escaped her was like music to his ears and he smiled as she threw her head back as the sound filled the room.

His fingers skimmed over her, tracing the line where her hip met her thigh, teasing her, toying with her, until she was arching her hips towards his hand, her body eager for more. Finally, he moved his hand down and around, his fingertips ghosting over her slick slit, which was exposed, due to her current position with her legs wrapped around his waist.

Tris gasped beneath him, hips rocking, lips begging so sweetly to please, _please_ touch her there. The sounds that spilled from her lips were heavenly, causing his cock to twitch beneath the denim confines of his jeans even as he slowly started to work his fingers over her, sliding them up and down the length of her warm, wet center.

“Mmm…” he purred, his voice lower and rougher than ever, “So fucking wet… Is that for me, baby girl?”

“You,” she agreed with a jerky nod, “Only you.”

He groaned then, the words only further stroking his ego as he continued to stroke her sweet pussy, teasing her until she was whining and writhing beneath him. Then – and _only_ then – he brought his fingertips up to brush them over her clit, coating it in her juices and coaxing a swift response from the little blonde beneath him.

Tris practically wailed, her eyes growing wide and her body tensing momentarily as he swirled the rough pads of his fingers over that little powerhouse of nerves that was buried between her folds. Her thighs trembled and he wondered for a moment if she was going to cum already.

But the shocked expression on her face prompted him to ask, “Is this too much?”

He elaborated by slowly swirling his fingers over that little bud again, and she whined, arching sharply against him and grasping at him with her nails in his biceps.

“No!” she huffed, barely able to string together tangible thoughts at this point, “I just… I guess no one has ever found it…”

Charles’s brows nearly met his hairline, but he shouldn’t have been surprised. Her experience was limited to a handful of high school boys and college guys. And, from what he had managed to gather during what few discussions they’d had on boys, none of them had managed to please her in bed yet. But that was fine by Charles. As far as he was concerned, it would be an honor to be the first – and, hopefully, the _only –_ man to please her.

He started to ease his hand away from her and she whined in disapproval, her full lips curling down into a pout as she dug her fingernails into his arms just slightly deeper in retaliation. Charles groaned, his eyes drifting shut for a moment as he basked in the sensation.

“Easy, love…” he murmured nuzzling at her temple with the tip of his nose as he eased his hand out of her shorts, “I want to see you. I want to watch you while I touch you. I want to see what I do to you.”

Her cheeks flamed then, but she nodded, giving her consent.

That was all he needed.

He was reaching for the waistband of her shorts then, pulling, tugging, yanking until they were at her knees and she was kicking them off to let them land at his feet on cold, cream colored tiles of the floor.

_Vows are spoken  
To be broken  
Feelings are intense  
Words are trivial  
Pleasures remain  
So does the pain  
Words are meaningless  
And forgettable_

_All I ever wanted  
All I ever needed  
Is here in my arms  
Words are very unnecessary  
They can only do harm_

Charles’s hands went for her shirt then, surprised when she lifted her arms into the air for him. Apparently, she was aroused enough to push her self-consciousness to the back burner – at least for the moment. Once her shirt was on the floor, she was completely bared to him, all that smooth, pale skin on display for his greedy eyes. He raked his eyes slowly down her body, growling at what was revealed, and resumed his place between her thighs.

“Ah-ah,” she hinted not-so-subtly, cocking one brow at him and reaching out for the hem of the black, three-quarter sleeved shirt he was wearing, the same one that he had had soaked through with sweat earlier that afternoon while he had been working on re-shingling the roof of her house, “I’m completely naked, and you’re still fully clothed. That’s a bit of a problem for me.”

Charles chuckled at that but nodded his head, lifting his arms and bowing his head to let her pull the material up and over his head.

She threw it to the floor with the rest of her clothes and he asked, “Better?”

“Almost,” she replied, reaching out with deft fingers to attack the belt at the front of his jeans.

Charles reached down to gently brush her fingers aside, quickly and easily working the belt buckle open and popping the button on his jeans, tugging down the zipper, to shuck his jeans. He toed out of his work boots and bent over to yank his socks off before standing back up in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs that clung to his every curve.

“And now?” he inquired.

“We’re getting there,” she stated, reaching out to catch the material at the waistband of his boxer briefs in her hands and pulling them down.

She was slow and easy, being careful not to yank or tug, which he was both thankful for and frustrated by. He just wanted to be rid of them so that he could resume his place between her thighs.

Once she had lowered the material down over the head of his aching erection, it sprang free, bobbing wildly in the air, even twitching against his stomach a couple of times. He reached down to shove his boxer briefs down to his knees and they fell the rest of the way, allowing him to step out of them.

“There,” he told her, his blue eyes finding hers and discovering that she was staring at him with her eyes wide, her mouth hanging open.

“It’s so… _big!”_ she cried incredulously.

Charles couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

Unlike Tris, Charles didn’t have a shy bone in his body. He was all man, all muscle, all raw strength and rough edges. He was bold, confident, capable. And he had never had a woman complain about his skills in bed yet.

“Can I…?” she started to ask, reaching one hand out towards him.

“You can,” he answered with an amused glimmer in his eye.

Her fingertips barely brushed him as she reached out towards his chest first, her touch shy and almost even timid at first. She had that bottom lip tucked firmly between her teeth and her pale eyes watched her small hand as it pressed flat against his firm, broad chest. She moved that hand slowly down over the dips and ridges of his washboard abs, then her finger traced the sharp line of muscle where his hip bone met his torso. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth then, his hands twitching with the desire to trace her curves as she was tracing his.

She was just inches away from reaching the real prize when he reached down to stop her, catching her small hand in his large one as he brought it up to his mouth, his lips pressing a kiss to her knuckles as he ground out in a deep rasp, “Tris, honey, if you touch me there right now, this is gonna be over _real_ quick. And I’m not finished with you yet. Not by a _long_ shot.”

Tris’s brows hiked up her forehead but she nodded to him, letting him move in closer to encroach on her space. He brought his face down until their noses brushed against one another, teasing the tip of his nose along hers as a smile danced across his lips.

“I love you…” he told her for the umpteenth time.

He wanted to be sure she knew that, that she understood just how he felt about her.

Tris simply nodded, her pale, icy eyes never parting from his crystal blue ones.

She started to lean up, craning her neck in an attempt to bring her lips to his, but Charles eased his head back just out of her reach, that crooked little smirk curling at his lips as he purred to her, “I think we’d better move this to the bedroom before things get too hot and heavy. Because, _believe_ me, things are only going to get hotter from here on out.”

Tris eagerly nodded her consent and Charles reached down, filling his large hands with the ample swell of her ass cheeks. He lifted her with ease, groaning as he turned to bury his face in her neck as he felt her wrap those long, slender legs around him and trap him against her.

He made his way down the hall and to the right, where her bedroom was located, and he smiled as he found that she had the blue tie dyed bedspread and matching pillowcases that he’d given her last year for her birthday on the bed. He carried her over to set her down on the bed, reaching down to gently detangle her from himself and turning her around so that her back faced him.

“What are you –,” she started to ask.

But he cut her off, reaching out to point to the mirror there on her dresser as he climbed onto the bed and moved to curl himself around her from behind, wrapping his arms around her slender waist and bending his knees to cradle her in his warmth as he leaned in close, offering her his warmth.

“Look right there,” he instructed, and she did, her eyes widening a little as she took in the sight of them, him wrapped around her with one arm tucked around her waist, holding her against him, and the other reached out to point to their image in the mirror.

He leaned in, nuzzling the tip of his nose against her ear, and she melted against him, her eyelids growing heavy with arousal as she watched him start to work a slow, lazy trail of hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses down the side of her neck.

“Don’t take your eyes off of yourself. I want you to watch. I want you to see what I see,” he purred into her ear.

Tris nodded.

“I want you to watch as I make you cum,” he continued on, “I want you to watch as I make you _scream_ for me.”

She gasped at that, her eyes growing wide and a shudder rippling down her spine.

“I want you to see how beautiful you are,” he insisted, “Because that’s what you are to me. You are _so_ fucking pretty, so beautiful, so _perfect,_ just the way you are.”

Her cheeks flamed then, the blush rising from her chest, clear up into her cheeks until even her ears were red.

“So pretty when you blush for me…” he rumbled into her ear, teasing her with the tip of his nose as he held her close with one arm and brought his other hand slowly up the length of the inside of her thigh, “Let’s see just how far that blush will spread when you cum for me.”

Tris’s face couldn’t have been any redder. She was sure she would even put a tomato to shame at this point. She had never been so embarrassed in her life, never been more self-conscious about her body until it was staring her back in the face now, her reflection looking right back at her as she watched Charles’s hand slowly sliding up the inside of her thigh, the rough, calloused pads of his fingers burning a trail over her sensitive skin and igniting a flame within her. She didn’t want to watch. It almost felt too… well, taboo. But she couldn’t pull her eyes away from their image as she watched him work his fingers up towards the apex of her thighs.

He used his other hand then, bringing it down to meet its partner and assist it in easing her thighs apart, spreading her wide and draping her open thighs over his, revealing the most intimate part of her anatomy to herself. Her cheeks couldn’t have gotten any hotter then. She had never looked at herself like this, had never seen herself so… closely.

She started to turn her head, to tuck it into his neck, but Charles shook his head, using one hand to gently cup her chin and turn her head back around to face the mirror.

“Trust me, baby girl,” he implored, “You’ll enjoy watching. It’ll make you cum _much_ harder.”

She wouldn’t know. She had never cum before. But she wasn’t about to tell _him_ that.

Instead, she resigned herself to the fact that she was about to watch the most intimate performance she had ever seen. And it was. The picture painted there on the mirror was nothing short of erotic as she watched Charles bring one hand down between her thighs, the other skating up over her stomach and her ribs, coaxing a fit of giggles out of her until he cupped her small breast in his large hand. Her laughter died then, a moan escaping her as she arched her back, pressing herself more firmly into his hand. She felt him tweaking the peak with his thumb, brushing it back and forth over her nipple until it was a puckered, pink peak. Then he caught it between his thumb and index finger and began to pinch and tug gently at it. She rewarded him with a whine, her back arching and her head tilting back as she succumbed to the pleasure.

 _“That’s_ it…” he praised, “Good girl… Let me know how you like it…”

While he had her attention focused on his fingers on her breast, teasing and squeezing at her, he brought his other hand down to tease his fingertips over her slick center, coaxing a surprised gasp out of her and causing her to curl her back in an attempt to bring both her breast and her hips closer to his touch at the same time.

She moaned out, not even realizing that she had said his name until he growled possessively into her ear, _“That’s_ it, love. Tell me. Who’s touching you?”

“Charles…” she moaned as she felt his fingers slowly sliding up the length of her slit, coating them in her desire.

“And who’s making you feel good?” he prompted.

“Charles!” she whined, feeling his fingertips start working firm, insistent circles over her highly-sensitive clit, causing her thighs to tremble against his, her hips arching desperately towards his hand.

“That’s right,” he agreed, nipping at her cheek as he started working those wicked lips on her ear, catching it between his lips and sucking at the lobe of her ear.

She really did whine then, the sound coming out high and pathetic as she arched against him, her eyes fluttering and threatening to close as she felt the tremors of pleasure rippling through her body, down to her core.

“Does that make you feel good, baby girl?” he crooned to her.

“Yes,” she said, her voice so quiet it was almost a whisper.

“I’m sorry,” he said, pressing more firmly against her clit that time, “I couldn’t quite hear you. What was that?”

“Yes!” she cried out, giving a jerky nod, “Yes, Charles! Yes!”

“Good girl…” he praised, “Good girl… Tell me… Do you want me to slide my fingers inside?”

He moved them down to her dripping center, which she was embarrassed to admit was leaking out onto the comforter on her bed, and poised them there, just at her entrance.

“Yes!” she readily agreed, tilting her hips up towards his hand, “Please, Charles! Please!”

“Mmm…” he groaned, “You sound so pretty when you beg for me.”

He nibbled along the curve of her ear as he slowly started to slide his middle and index finger inside of her, delving them deeper and deeper until the palm of his hand cupped her sex.

“Mmm…” he purred, “Such a good girl, taking them all the way in for me. Do you like that? Does that make you feel good?”

“Yes!” she whimpered, rocking against him in a desperate attempt to goad him into skipping the part where he teased her and heading straight to the part where he pleased her instead, “Please!”

“Anything for my Tris,” he said, nuzzling the tip of his nose against her cheek as he slowly started to work his fingers in and out of her hot, wet, tight channel.

“So _tight…”_ he commented, “When was the last time someone was inside of your pussy?”

Tris’s brain barely functioned for speaking, let alone thinking. She struggled through the lust induced haze that was spreading over her as she tried to count back the months that had past since she’d last had sex.

“Eight… No, nine,” she corrected herself, “Nine months.”

“Nine months…” he pondered, “Ian?”

But she shook her head. No. Not Ian. Ian had broken up with her just shortly before that and she had been drowning in rejection at that point in her life. After three failed relationships already at college, she had taken the opportunity when it had arose, presenting itself in the form of a hot frat boy that had looked a lot like – at least to her alcohol-fueled brain that night he had seemed to look like – Charles.

“No?” he inquired, “Then who?”

“You wouldn’t know him,” she told him, “I was going through a rough patch. Ian and I had split, and I was drinking with some friends when I saw this guy that I thought looked like…”

“Looked like who?” he asked, never stilling his fingers.

“You…” she admitted, casting her eyes down to her lap, which was a mistake because all she could do then was watch as he worked his fingers, which were slick with her arousal, in and out of her tight hole.

 _“Me?”_ he questioned incredulously.

“Yes, you,” she answered, “It’s always been you, Charles.”

Didn’t he see that? Surely, after tonight, he had to.

The sound that escaped him then was raw and primal, a low growl that ripped from somewhere deep in his chest and rumbled right into her ear. The sound sent shudders racing down her spine and caused her walls to flutter around his fingers as her arousal spiked. She gasped, tipping her head back on his shoulder and arching her hips eagerly towards his fingers.

Charles quickened his pace then, delving inside of her deeper, faster, coaxing embarrassing, wet, squelching noises from her body that had her cheeks flushing even as he reached up with his free hand to grip her chin and force her to look at herself in the mirror once more.

“Look,” he told her, “See how wet you are for me? See how much you want me?”

She gave a jerky nod and he added his thumb into the equation then, swirling it over her clit, pressing insistently as he pushed her closer and closer to something. What that something was, she had no idea. All she knew was that there was this burning, tingling, electric feeling building deep down inside of her, centered right below her navel. Something akin to a cool front worked its way up the length of her thighs, stretching up towards that knot of sensations forming in her abdomen.

Tris whined, tilting her head back but keeping her eyes focused on Charles’s fingers as he continued to work at her, to tease her, to please her, to work her up until she felt like she was going to either explode or go mad. She wasn’t quite sure which would come first. But she felt him flick his thumb over her once, twice, then he twisted her nipple, and she was flying.

Charles watched, his blue eyes widening at the sight before him as he took her in. Her head tipped back, lips parting on a loud, sharp gasp as her thighs trembled and her feet scrambled over the comforter, her hands flying down to grasp his thighs and pierce his skin with her painted, blue nails. Her hips jerked, bucking frantically against his hand as she came so fucking hard, she squirted out onto the bed, leaving both his hand and fingers and her bedspread covered in her juices.

“Jesus Christ, woman…” he growled, his fingers slowly pumping as he worked her through her aftershocks, then eased his fingers out of her when she started to whimper and try to squirm away from him.

 _Never_ had he seen anything hotter. And they were just getting started.

Charles brought his fingers up to his lips, eager for a taste of her, and was surprised to find her watching him with those pale eyes almost completely consumed by her pupils and her bottom lip tucked firmly between her teeth. He slipped his fingers past his lips, teasing her as he brought his tongue out to flick between his fingers, curling it around first one of his fingers and then the other as he sucked her juices from his digits. He groaned as her musky taste flooded his senses, the scent of her arousal filling his nostrils.

She whimpered, clenching her thighs tight together as she tilted her head back further against his shoulder, eyes rapt on him.

“You want a taste?” he asked, cocking one dark brow at her, and Tris scrunched her face up, causing him to chuckle.

“When you catch your breath, I want you bent over on the mattress,” he instructed, “Elbows down, ass up.”

Her eyes lit up at that.

“So you like it from behind, do you?” he asked her.

“I… I don’t know,” she answered truthfully.

“What?” he inquired, “You’ve never had a man take you from behind?”

“No,” she replied quietly, shaking her head.

“Well then,” he said, “We’re about to change that.”

He chuckled as he watched her move to get into position for him, pleased by her eagerness to try something new with him. He watched as she lowered herself down onto the bed, her elbows flat against the soft comforter and her knees bent, her ass up in the air. She even wiggled her ass at him, taunting him, tempting him, until he was up and moving, assuming his position behind her and resting his large hands on her hips.

“Not like that,” he murmured to her softly, “Like this.”

He brought one hand up to her back, pressing against it even as he used his grip on her hip with his other hand to manipulate her, readjusting the angle of her hips and the curve of her spine until he had her just the way he wanted her.

“That’s better,” he praised, slowly lowering his hand from the curve of her spine down to the generous cheek of her ass.

He rubbed his rough palm over her skin, slow and easy, making sure that he brought every inch of her skin that he touched alive. Then he brought his hand back and landed a sharp _SMACK_ to her ass, pulling a sharp, surprised gasp from her as she jerked from the impact.

She stared at him through the mirror, eyes wide and mouth hanging open in shock. But there was no mistaking the way that her eyes lit up or the slow, sly curl of her lips once she had gotten past the initial shock of him spanking her.

“This angle is perfect,” he explained, rubbing his hand over her now sore ass cheek to soothe the sting he’d surely left there, “It will allow me to penetrate you deeper.”

She actually moaned at that, arching like a cat in heat at the very idea, and Charles couldn’t help but smirk that that. He was corrupting her already and he was just getting started.

Charles brought his hand back to her hip then, gripping her tight, as he used his other hand to take his cock and bring the broad head down to her dripping center. She was still so hot, so wet for him. It made it that much easier to slide the head of his dick up and down her slick center, coating it in her juices, paving the way for his entrance.

Once he was sure they were both properly prepared, he brought the broad head of his cock right to her entrance and pressed against it. He was slow but firm, pushing insistently until the head had breached her entrance. Then he was sliding in, slow and easy, one inch at a time, to ease her into it. He heard her hissing, felt her tight walls clamping down around him, and knew that it had to be quite a stretch for her.

“Easy, baby…” he kept one hand on her hip, using the other to slowly stroke along her back, trying to get her to loosen her muscles and relax her body for him, “Easy…”

He leaned over her, blazing a trail of heated kisses along her spine, heading due north.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked her.

“No,” she answered, shaking her head, and the determination was right there in her fierce, pale eyes when he gazed into the mirror.

She was being truthful. She wasn’t trying to lie to him, just to save his own pride. She truly wanted this, just as he did.

Once he had finally bottomed out, he sighed a breath of relief, assuring her, “The worst part is over.”

She nodded. She knew that.

He pressed kisses along her shoulder, his lips curling up into a smile at the freckles he found there.

“Bear with me, baby girl,” he murmured softly to her.

Tris nodded, slowly relaxing beneath him, and he started to ease back out of her, only to stop once his head was all that remained inside of her. Then he was thrusting back inside, slow and steady and deep. She moaned, her back arching and her fingers curling in the comforter beneath her as she tipped her head back, her eyes drifting shut.

Charles didn’t want to rush this. He wanted to make it last, wanted to drag it out as long as he could. He was no high school virgin or frat boy, just out for a quick, hard fuck, and he intended to prove it.

He eased his hips back once more, working himself back inside of her as he voiced a groan of approval. God, she was like heaven! So warm and welcoming, so soft and sweet. She was loud but not offensively so. She was an eager and willing participant. And, if he was honest, if he’d known just how good she would feel – even better than his wildest dreams – he might have broken and given into the temptation sooner.

He kept his thrusts slow and measured, the angle of her hips and the curvature of her spine allowing him to reach down deep. He mouthed at her shoulder, lips kissing, tongue swiping over sweat-soaked skin, teeth nibbling and nipping and sometimes grazing at the skin he found there. He groaned and growled against her skin as he fucked the beautiful young woman beneath him.

With one hand on her hip, holding her firmly in place, he brought the other around and down, between her thighs, to locate that little bundle of nerves that was buried between her slick folds. She whined then, throwing her head back and nearly cracking him in the face in the process as her hips jerked towards his fingers as he swirled them over her clit.

He caught her clit between his fingers then, giving her a little pinch, and she wailed, the sound so sudden and startling that he had to ask, “Tris? Baby? Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”

Her only response was to mewl and arch sharply against him, using her body to indicate to him what she wanted when her mouth failed to find the words.

“Tris, I need an answer, baby,” he prompted, “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she answered, shaking her head, “No.”

“You’re sure?” he asked.

“Charles! Please!” she wailed, her body arching against his since he had grown still in fear of having harmed her in some way.

Her skin was so hot, her body covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and he couldn’t help but work his hands up her sides, moving them up and around until he could cup her breasts in his hands, squeezing them tight. A sharp whine tore from her throat and he realized then that her response to his pinching her clit wasn’t because she was in pain. No, she _welcomed_ the pain, her body basking in it, reveling in it.

With that thought in mind, he brought one hand down to her hip, holding her in place as he started fucking into her in earnest, still moving slowly and deeply but punctuating each thrust with a hard, driving force behind each one of them. He brought his other hand up to curl his fingers through her blonde pigtails, grasping them tightly and yanking on them to pull her head up so that she was looking right into the mirror in front of them. She let out a strangled, throaty moan, her hips bucking soundly against his as her back arched to roll her ass into him.

“So, you like it rough, huh?” he purred into her ear, his blue eyes trained on her face, watching as it flushed with color, “There’s nothing wrong with that, baby girl. I can work with that.”

And, to prove it to her, he gave a good, hard buck of his hips, sending his cock thrusting into her at a new angle that had the broad head tapping against a spot buried deep inside of her that had her eyes literally rolling back into her head and her toes curling tight as she cried out.

“That’s it…” he purred, sinking his teeth into her shoulder and coaxing another whine out of her, “Tell me how it feels, Tris…”

“Yes!” was all she could manage, one single stamp of approval.

But that was good enough for him.

Tris couldn’t stop the lewd noises spilling from her mouth, the loud, embarrassing whines, the desperate whimpers, the strangled moans. She couldn’t stop any of them. But they only seemed to fuel Charles on further. He kept his eyes trained on her through the mirror, watching her, taking in her every move, her every reaction to his ministrations. And _God_ the things he did to her! Her body sung with barely restrained pleasure, her pulse thumping loudly in her ears, nearly drowning out her own shouts of pleasure and the low growls and grunts that Charles gave with every insistent thrust inside of her. She didn’t know how much more she could take if she was honest.

She gasped, feeling the head of his cock tap at that spot buried deep within her that had her seeing stars behind her closed eyelids again, her fingers and toes curling in the comforter as she rocked back against him. She could hear the loud slapping of skin on skin, the rather embarrassing wet noises her body made for him, the creaking of her bed as he thrust so deep inside of her. It was driving her mad. _He_ was driving her mad. And she didn’t ever want it to stop.

“Don’t stop!” the words slipped past her lips before she could even process the fact that she was speaking, “Oh _God!_ Don’t stop! Don’t ever stop!”

The long, low groan that he voiced right into her ear, burying his nose in the shell of her ear, was reward enough for her little slipup. The way he gripped her hips tighter and fucked into her even harder was just an added bonus, causing her head to rush and her lungs to choke out another strangled noise, this one more like a sob than anything else.

“Please!” she begged, “Oh, Charles, _please!”_

She knew now what she was begging for. She knew now what he was building up to. She could feel the tension building within her body, burning low in her abdomen, and it felt like it was about to reach its boiling point. It was too much and yet not enough. It was too strong, too intense, and yet she wanted more, _so_ much more. And she knew that Charles Vane was the only man that could give it to her, the only man that she would ever want this from.

She started to gasp and pant, barely able to pull the air into her lungs as her body surged with something akin to electricity, every nerve ending in her body buzzing as the tension building within her grew and tightened until everything just exploded. That was the best way to describe what happened to her body. The pleasure burst forth from her, singing through her veins, pounding through her temples, rushing through her lungs and out of her mouth with a loud, strangled, almost choked sound as she practically convulsed, completely overcome with the sudden, raging force of her orgasm.

When she finally opened her eyes once more, panting and struggling to catch her breath as the aftershocks rolled through her, her muscles twitching and trembling, she saw Charles staring back at her through the mirror, a look of pure, unadulterated passion stealing over his face. Lost. That was the best word she could think of to describe the way he looked. He looked lost to her, in her, with her.

And not a second after her last aftershock rolled through her, he was thrusting again, riding her hard and fast, with renewed vigor, until he suddenly stopped and pulled himself out of her. Tris’s brows furrowed in confusion and she was just opening her mouth to ask him what he was doing when he wrapped one hand around his cock and jerked hard, once… twice... Then he was cumming hard, splashing it all over her back in hot, wet spurts that caused her to gasp in surprise. But the sound that he released, the way he _growled_ out one word, that deep timbre uttering one single syllable, completely captivated her. Because the only word that spilled from his lips was her name.

She watched him through the mirror, watched as his thighs trembled as he slowly milked the last few drops from his cock with one hand, before he dropped onto his back on the bed beside her with a loud, self-satisfied sigh. The shit-eating grin that curled at his lips told her she needn’t ask if he had enjoyed himself either.

She smiled down at him, slowly lowering herself down onto the bed beside him and reaching out with one shaking hand to brush a stubborn strand of his long, dark hair out of those beautiful, breathtaking, blue eyes.

“You know…” she mused, “You could’ve cum inside of me.”

His dark brows furrowed at that and he started to ask, “But I didn’t think you were –,”

But she cut him off, informing him, “I’ve been on the pill since I was sixteen, Charles. My periods were always _awful,_ and mom thought we’d better find a way to help alleviate some of it. So, we looked into it, found a solution. Now I take a little pill every morning and I don’t have to worry about staying home from work or school because my cramps are too bad. And, obviously, I don’t have to worry about getting pregnant either.”

Charles’s brows rose but he nodded slowly, processing the information.

Finally, he spoke, stating, “Well, I guess that means I don’t have to pull out next time.”

“Next time?” she inquired, her brows rising, along with her hopes, which were currently soaring in her chest.

“Yeah,” he answered, “Next time.”

He leaned over to kiss her, stealing what little breath she had finally managed to catch, and added, “And the next time…”

He dropped a kiss to her shoulder then.

“And the next time…” he purred.

Another one to the corner of her jaw.

“And the next time…” he continued.

He stole her lips once more in a long, lingering kiss that had her toes curling and her blood rushing through her veins before he finally pulled back to grin up at her.

“You didn’t honestly think I was done with you,” he said, “Did you?”

She blushed, lowering her gaze to the blue, tie dyed comforter beneath them.

“Oh, honey,” he growled, leaning in to nuzzle at her ear, “I’m just getting started.”

** Lyrics from the Song: **

_Not Strong Enough_ by Apocalyptica feat. Brent Smith

 _Enjoy the Silence_ by Anberlin (Yes, I know Depeche Mode sang the original version, but I can _promise_ you that this version is better, despite my great love for classic rock)


End file.
